


Anniversary

by lithelle



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, belated 11/20 and then some
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:19:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lithelle/pseuds/lithelle
Summary: A few years down the line Goro and Akira observe an anniversary, of a sort.





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> This popped into my head as I, too, was trying to fall asleep. Thanks for reading!

He hadn't really been asleep, anyway.

 

"Goro?"

 

From the way the sheets twist and stretch, how the mattress bows beneath them, he knows the answer before he even asks the question. The weight is long familiar now.

 

Akira asks anyway. "Is that you?"

 

Sharp knees knocking unceremoniously against his legs, long fingers snaking around his waist as they search for the hem of his shirt, a heartbeat muffled against his back but still very much here, present,  _ alive _ \-- these are the answers Akira gets. 

 

When silence settles back down around them Akira is pretty sure he also knows the answer to his next question -- but again, he asks anyway.

 

"Rough day?"

 

The way Goro tenses against him is so subdued he could almost miss it. By now, though, Akira knows his tells like the back of his hand and can feel Goro’s heart thrumming erratic and wild. He's nervous. 

 

White knuckles grasp vice-like at Akira's nightshirt, so Akira gently covers them with his own hands, rubs soft circles until Goro finally lets go. He won’t get any answers while Goro’s hiding behind him, so Akira rolls over to face him. Goro lets him without question -- there's little real resistance between the two of them these days -- but he keeps his eyes hidden from Akira beneath his fringe. It’s his last defense from the terror of being vulnerable, but the quiver in his lips and hunch in his shoulders as Goro folds in on himself tell Akira all he needs to know. 

 

"And then some, huh?"

 

Akira's known Goro long enough now to know when he wants to,  _ needs _ to reach out for comfort but can't bring himself to accept it when laid bare for the taking. So Akira reaches back instead, lifting his hands to tilt Goro's chin up as he brushes their lips together. A reminder that he's here, they're both here, that they're safe and free and no longer trapped pawns on some mock chess board of calculated destiny. Goro doesn't need his cracked mask here, and neither does Akira. 

 

It's a delicate thing, and Akira kisses him slow and soft until Goro all but melts into him. A contented sound escapes him and for moment Akira thinks he's forgone the battle in favor of winning the war, at least for this year. But that tension is still wound tight around his partner’s shoulders tonight, a chain he knows still binds the last heart he set out to steal long ago.

 

"Akira." Goro mumbles against him, and Akira leans back just a fraction, gazing down at him as his eyes adjust to the darkness.

 

"Mm?"

 

Another beat of silence, as Goro's fists clench and unclench in the fabric of Akira's nightshirt. Like he can't decide whether to hold on or let go. 

 

"Do you know what day it is?"

 

Akira's breath hitches in his throat, but he's quick to catch himself as he feigns it to a yawn. 

 

"That depends." Of course he knows what day it is. "Is it before or after midnight now?"

 

From the way Goro scoffs and tenses, Akira knows his eyes are probably rolling back into his skull and right out of his head. He can't stop the soft chuckle that escapes him. The banter is familiar, fun, feather-light -- nothing at all like the gravity that looms shadow-like from a question that should be so simple and mundane.

 

"Please, be serious."

 

"I'm always serious," Akira deflects, mock-offense tempered with an impish grin he's not even sure Goro can see. 

 

"I  _ know _ you're not," Goro snaps back, but there's no real bite in it as he nestles his head against Akira's neck. He can feel Goro return a smirk of his own against his skin. 

 

Akira doesn't say anything, simply tucks a lock of soft tawny hair behind Goro's ear. He wonders if this will be enough for Goro to drop the subject, but sure enough just when Akira thinks he's home free, he feels Goro’s smile fall. "It's... about 11:50."

 

The room feels still as death in the silence that follows.

 

"...Then it's November 20th," Akira finally answers when he decides the quiet will get them nowhere.

 

Goro hesitates to reply, but when he does his voice is thick and rough like gravel. "Yes. It is."

 

And here they are again. 

 

Akira pulls them upright and squares his hands against Goro's shoulders. Levels his gaze, looks directly into Goro's eyes with such intensity that no shadow's trickery could disguise his determination. He knows what day it is. He knows why Goro's upset. But he also knows that it can't shake the life they live now -- not unless one of them lets it.

 

The danger is that Goro's eyes burn equally bright above a ruefully broken smile, fierce with self-deprecating defiance.

 

"Goro --"

 

"It's the day I--"

 

"--Goro, we decided--"

 

"--put my gun to your head and--"

 

"--it's okay--"

 

"It's not okay!" He's not yelling exactly, but their crescendo of whispers leave Goro's voice hoarse and desperate, the sound struggling like it's caught on barbed wire. "Akira, I tried to kill you. I didn't succeed, but I  _ tried. _ More than once! How can that ever be okay!?"

 

"Goro, listen --"

 

His voice finally breaks, then. "How do you know I'll never try again?"

 

Akira knows.

 

He knows the shape of Goro’s heart, how it’s  _ changed _ \-- but he also knows a simple string of words stating such can’t convince him. Goro has to believe it for himself. Akira will remind him as many times as it takes, but he’s starting to wonder if it’ll ever make a difference.

 

Fortunately, the former leader of the Phantom Thieves is nothing if not stubbornly persistent. 

 

He tugs at Goro's wrists and brings his hands to rest loosely at the base of his own neck. "Do you want to?"

 

"Wh-what? Akira--"

 

"Do you want to kill me?"

 

Goro snatches his hand to his chest as if burned. "NO!" Goro's voice cracks through the stillness of the room, ringing between Akira's ears before he says again, quietly this time, "...No."

 

Akira nods, letting his own hands fall. Back then, it would have been impossible, but now...  "I trust you."

 

"I'm not so sure you should."

 

The words hang rotten in the air. Akira worries they’ll take root if he doesn’t say something, so he says the first thing that comes to mind.

 

"Goro, do you remember when we first met again, after everything?"

 

"And you punched me square across the jaw? How could I forget?" Goro presses his knuckles lifelessly to Akira's chin, and Akira catches his hand to place a soft kiss to the back.

 

"You're absolutely insufferable."

 

"So I've been told."

 

"Many times. And yet." He can hear the life seeping back into Goro's voice, trickling through the cracks in walls Akira refuses to let him patch up.

 

"You forgave me though, right?” He makes a fist and swings his arm between them in absolutely terrible form. “Even though I have a mean right cross."

 

There’s a bark of a bitter laugh when Goro swats at him. "...Yes. But... I did deserve it."

 

"Okay, maybe not the best analogy.” Akira sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Speeches with Toranosuke be damned, he’s better at listening than he is at speaking. But he needs to say something. “Point is, at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. And at  _ that _ time--"

 

"I... thought it was what I needed to do,” Goro finishes flatly.

 

"But you don't need to now. And you don’t live every day paralyzed in fear that I'm gonna sock you again either, right?"

 

Goro blinks at the darkness, and Akira hears something like surprise. "Well... no, I don't."

 

"Why not?"

 

"I hope I never give you a reason to, but more than that..."

 

"More than that?"

 

"...I trust you."

 

"Exactly."

 

Goro slumps against him, forehead resting on his shoulder. Akira can't help but wrap his arms around him to protectively pull him even closer. "...Why?"

 

“Justice can be drawn upright and reversed, but it’s still the same card. What you get out of it depends on how you read it.” He shrugs one shoulder, so as not to dislodge the boy in his lap too much. “Besides, fate can be changed, anyway. We have first-hand experience with that.”

 

“That’s oddly poetic, for you.” Goro wrinkles his nose, but his eyes are drooping as he tucks his arms in around Akira’s waist. As if on cue, Akira tugs them back down towards the comforts of sleep.

 

“I’m just saying, I know you.”

 

Goro chuckles; it's still a bitter and rueful sound that vibrates against Akira’s collarbone, but it’s much lighter than it was. He can’t argue against the strength of their bond, anyway.

 

“I regret it.”

 

“I know.”

 

The unsaid apology hangs in the air, like it does every year. It’s not Akira’s forgiveness Goro is looking for anyway.

 

“..Do you? Regret anything, I mean.”

 

Akira regrets lots of things, particularly not having met Goro two years earlier than he did. But that’s not what Goro’s asking.

 

“Not even a little bit. How could I regret the future I get to live with you, honey?”

 

“God,” Goro chokes a laugh, and this time it’s real. “You are  _ awful _ .”

 

Akira places a kiss on Goro’s nose, settling in for sleep.

 

He’s dozed to the brink of oblivion when he hears Goro’s sleep-laced voice again.

 

“Akira?”

 

“Mm..?”

 

“Thank you. For trusting me.”

 

It’s an anniversary, after all. If Akira holds him just a little closer that night in response, neither of them minds in the morning.

 

* * *

 

 

About a week later, give or take, Akira's the one wound up tight like a spool of thread ready to snap and he can't put his finger on why. 

 

He settles for trying to put all his fingers on Morgana's tail, swatting as it lashes to and fro.

 

"You seem tense," Morgana chides. Akira makes yet another effortless grab at his tail. He misses every time.

 

He tells himself it's on purpose, and not because his nerves are sparring with a proficiency that should be far greater than this. "Nah, I'm good."

 

"I can tell when you're lying, you know." Morgana hops up onto his shoulder, offering an encouraging nuzzle, then whispers almost conspiratorially. "Is it about what you and Akechi talked about the other day?"

 

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Akira states drily, but they both glance over to where Goro stands at the opposite corner of the room, straightening his tie and taming his tangle of mussed hair in front of the mirror. 

 

Goro has an interview today; not on TV, of course, just for a plain, average, no-fanfare job. They both hope it goes off without a hitch. The extra income certainly wouldn't be a burden and Akira knows Goro could use a distraction to eat up the days he's busy working at LeBlanc. 

 

They're moving on.

 

Deft fingers flatten the last stubborn wrinkles from his tie and button-down shirt, and he nods to his reflection before presenting himself to Akira and Morgana. "Well? How do I look?"

 

Morgana's lived with the two of them long enough now -- and had long enough to accept his Metaverse-less lack of shapeshifting -- to know an imminent session of flirtatious banter when he hears it and produce the most obvious excuse possible in response. "I don't know, I'm just a cat." 

 

He blames Akira, of course, and gives him a look expressing such before bounding out the window for the rest of the morning.

 

"When it's convenient!" Akira calls out after him, before tilting his head back to drag a lingering gaze along the man standing before him. 

 

He looks like a crisp, business-minded salaryman -- not anything like a blessed spell-slinging detective or a cursed gun-wielding assassin. Which is the point, when Akira thinks about it. He's neither of those things, not anymore. "That's cat for 'you look very handsome and professional,' by the way."

 

The slightest cry of "no it isn't!" from somewhere midway down the roof makes them both laugh, and a smile ghosts at Goro's lips as he runs a hand through Akira's hair.

 

Akira leans into the touch, then turns to press a kiss to Goro's palm. "I, on the other hand, think you look  _ ravishing, _ honey."

 

"Stop that." Goro swats his head, but it's with no real force and he's smiling for real now, the faintest bit of pink dusting his cheeks.

 

Akira's affronted cry as he catches Goro's wrist is flimsy at best. "You  _ asked _ !" 

 

Goro rolls his eyes. "I'm not trying to  _ seduce _ them, Akira. I'm trying to make them think I'm qualified for the position." 

 

Never a man to let a golden opportunity slip him by, Akira leans back on his free hand with a smirk on his lips and a quirk to his eyebrows. "Why not both?"

 

"Even after all these years, you're still absolutely incorrigible."

 

"So you've told me."

 

"Many times," Goro adds with an exasperated huff, but he leans down to place a kiss to Akira's temple. "And I suppose I'll have to continue to let you know, since you still haven't learned your lesson."

 

It's not the sensation of lips on his skin or the whisper in his ear that makes something warm unfurl in Akira's chest, something uncoil from its vice grip around his muscles. It's what Goro says, the unsaid promise of 'for many years to come.'

 

It makes Goro's next words wash over him like ice by contrast. "I have to go. I'll see you after the interview -- wish me luck?"

 

"Good..." for a moment, the words catch in his throat. There's no reason to worry. Goro's present, permanent, he's not going anywhere right now except to his interview, an important step for them to move forward together into being the kind of adults that  _ aren't _ rotten.

 

Akira trusts him. He does. 

 

So why is a wave of panic boiling in his veins?

 

Akira thinks of impenetrable metal and boiler room doors. He thinks of Goro's arms locked around his waist when they're tangled in the sheets of his bed. He thinks of gloved hands and gunshots.

 

"...Good luck," he finally manages to say.

 

It's an obvious stumble, and Akira grimaces as he watches Goro lift a curious eyebrow at him.

 

"Akira? Are you quite alright?" 

 

"Never better." He lies. "You're going to do great, Goro. They'll love you." He adds, completely genuine. 

 

That faint pink tinge is back on Goro's cheeks, and Akira notes just a bit smugly that he can’t hide a smile at the praise. He never would have smiled so openly before, and that's some kind of comfort. He was silly to doubt.

 

"Thanks. Well-- see you."  

 

Akira watches him go, watches him pick up his briefcase and close the door to their studio apartment behind him, casual as anything. It's not until the door makes its final "click," solidifies itself as a barrier between them, that Akira finally panics. 

 

His feet are moving before his head even knows where they're going, his hand wrenches at the door handle without a thought and he's yelling, eyes wide--

 

"Goro!"

 

"Akira? What--"

 

Akira must have  _ some _ kind of bizarrely stricken expression on his face, because Goro cuts himself off immediately, spending only a moment searching Akira's eyes for answers before he climbs back up the three stairs he'd taken from their front door. Akira hopes Goro's figured him out because Goro's standing before him with the sun shining down like not a thing could go wrong, and Akira feels like an idiot but he also feels lost with no idea why.

 

Goro lays a hand along his cheek, gaze focused and mouth drawn into a thin line the way he does when he's searching for the correct words. Face hot with embarrassment, Akira studies his feet.

 

"Today's something of an anniversary too, isn't it." It's a statement, not a question. 

 

Akira feels like a fool for not realizing it, but he knows instantly that's it. He nods curtly, unable to conjure up any witty deflection in the face of the truth. "...Yeah."

 

Goro takes a deep breath.

 

"I'm here."

 

"Yeah."

 

"I'm alive."

 

"I know."

 

"You saved me."

 

"You flatter me, honey--"

 

"I'm serious."

 

That pushes past Akira's frayed nerves and when he tips his head back to look up at him, Goro's staring back down with an intensity usually reserved for deductions and ambitions. He hasn't seen this in a while. Akira's mouth clamps shut.

 

"You thought I died on that ship."

 

Something wet and stinging pricks at the corners of Akira's eyes. Stupid.

 

"Yeah."

 

"I didn't." 

 

Akira knows that. Goro's standing right in front of him, moving and breathing and living. And yet -- 

 

"But if not for you, I would have." Goro's voice drops to a whisper. "That's a debt I can never hope to repay."

 

Akira’s brows knit together, voice thick as unshed tears threaten to spill. "Goro, it's not some kind of --"

 

"I know. I'm just -- trying to say, you don't have to worry anymore, Akira. I won't leave you." 

 

It’s not a lie, not an evasion, not some kind of mask-ridden half-truth. Akira’s heart thrills, and he wonders when Goro learned to be so honest. When both of them did. 

 

"I'm not going anywhere.” Goro presses his lips to Akira's forehead, before pulling back to give him a pointed look. “Except to this interview, which I'm about to be late for."

 

Akira breathes a laugh in spite of himself, and palms the mist from his eyes."Alright-- alright. I trust you, just... be safe?"

 

Akira feels the brush of Goro’s lips against his own, slow, safe, and full of promise.

"I'll come by LeBlanc after, so you can see for yourself. Deal?"

 

Rather than his meticulously crafted gentlemanly facade, he must look like a hell of a mess -- but he’s never felt more relieved as a crooked grin spreads across his face. The dangers of deceitful masks are a thing of the past, after all.

 

"Can't say no to that."

 

With a wave, Goro turns to the stairs.

 

"Good luck!" Akira calls after him, and this time he really means it.


End file.
